Tag Archives: equality

That Time You Looked At Me

And then

I’d remember

How your eyes shone

When you looked at me

Obliquely

Or just with a question

Poised

Ready for a leap of faith

Like teenagers cliff diving

In the heat

Of summer

When we forgot about

Others

Danced with cedars and firs

Above those thin pools

Of critical cool

Where ravens swim and salmon

Touch the sky

And we would hold hands

Like it was meant to be

Forever

Or at least for now

Since there is a forever in now

Which transcends

The reality of this place

Until everything else drops away

It’s just you

Me

And the next breath

That neither of us

Takes

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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Serrated Time

Time has serrated edges today

For me

Time is ragged

Each moment ripped and torn

No clock can track the imprecision of subjective moments

I no longer wear a watch

I have no need to watch mechanical time

Because each moment is not like each other

Time isn’t to be measured

Locked into precise compartments of predictability

Creating an artificial display of flawed equality

No, time flows

Like a river around obstacles

With increasing velocity when it floods

It’s fluid

Time is subject to currents and eddies

Time is personal

My moments are strung like pearls

On a broken chain

Rolling across the floor

To rest where they may

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2013

 

 

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Gratitude

Today I declare gratitude

Thankfulness for life

For being here in this place of privilege

For what limited freedom I enjoy

I am grateful I can choose my own spirituality

My beliefs are my own and not imposed

By frowning arbiters of mythological excess

I am grateful to the women that have spurned me

Leaving me space for universal enjoyment

Gifting me the time I would have spent

On worrying about your affection and your desires

I am grateful for the beauty of nature

That unfolds around us daily

I revel in the wonders of this web of life

Smiling as I uncover each unread volume of the divine library

I thank everyone who has ever smiled at a stranger

Or given freely from a threadbare pocket

This is such a wondrous time to be alive

When thoughts and dreams are interchanged

Across the world at lightning speed

Where knowledge grows organically

Even in the face of repression

I am grateful for the resilience of the oppressed

Who are strong enough to heal publicly

Becoming leaders for the lost

I am thankful for irrepressible music

Pervasively bathing us in harmonic resonance

I thank the artists who reinterpret truth

With inspiration and dedication

I raise my hands in praise of caregivers

Who reach out with compassion and generosity

I am grateful for all the love that has come my way

And for those I have been honoured to love

I give thanks

To all the forces that conspire to unlonely the affliction of despair

I am grateful

Just to be here

Understanding that now

Is a reflection of forever

And for that I am eternally happy in my gratitude

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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Dystopian Rant

I heard that it’s raining at the North Pole

Which seems about right these days

In this world that’s been pulled inside out

It’s getting weird and all fucked up

 

I don’t usually use words like that, but really

What can you say about the poles melting

About a world gone mad

Where crazy people massacre innocent victims with assault weapons

And redneck conservatives who think they’re religious

Defend their right to do so

 

It’s all fucked up

 

A nation founded on liberty and justice for all

Doing a 180

Into tightly controlled security

And arbitrary arrest and detention

While their President, who taught law at Harvard

Authorizes state sponsored assassinations instead of arrests and trials

What happened to the rule of law?

 

It’s all fucked up

 

This is a world where even the frozen hearted northern queen

Unthaws and weeps at what we’ve done

While corporations misapply copyright law to steal our genes

And declare fresh water superfluous to the common need

This is a world that spends more time

On vacuous entertainment and spectator sports

Than on education and creation

This is a world that celebrates hate and divisiveness

And calls it democracy

 

It’s all fucked up

 

The good guys never were good

Except at publicity and keeping secrets

So now they’re freaking out over the leakers

The truth tellers

And it’s like a highballing truckdriver who’s just been bit by a wasp

Swatting madly in the cab

Hurtling through the night

Towards midnight and an appointment

That I would much rather those assholes didn’t keep

But they’re the ones driving this rig

Elected officials and their corporate masters

Leading us into unmitigated disasters

 

Bastards

 

So yes, I declare that it’s all fucked up

In this world of miracles

Where some of us live in paradise

But most just live in hell

And hell is coming to everyone else

In apocalyptic fury

Sweeping away what meager defenses we thought we had

On the wind or the tide

Or the turn of the screw

 

It’s all fucked up

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Be Free

The tighter a country wraps itself in its flag

The more it becomes constricted

Unable to see the rest of the world clearly

Nationhood is less about freedom and more about control

No matter what any constitution or zealot patriot might say

Countries and all our multi-layered levels of governance

Keep people in virtual feedlots

Penned in by ideas and concepts that overlay reality

In our shared delusion of civility

Look at the absurd lengths we go to

Interrupting each others smooth glide

By creating complex rules and imaginary lines

Which at their core only exist inside our minds

Now, storm troop clerics have returned

Like old testament prophets

Calling for retribution and revenge

 

Binary thinkers are the death of the rest of us

Auditing beliefs and creative thoughts

Against a template of hate and bitterness

All those angry faces calling for compliance

Fall into line!

Fall into line, they say

Judging everyone

Harshly critical about every action

Every reaction

So we dance these complex dances of bizarre ritual

Looking about as civilized as an ant colony

To our visitors from beyond

You know who I’m talking about

They must be quite amused

At faith-based hatred that legitimizes torture and murder

As we go around killing one another over ideas

Borders

Morality

Sexual inclination

Racism

Prejudice

Which pleasures are allowed and which aren’t

Ideas that have no physical presence in this plane of existence

But manage to keep us nose to grindstone

Brown-nosed and beaten

Through passive acceptance of the status quo

Instead of standing up and looking around

Making our own judgments about what’s in front of our eyes

Not behind them in some surreal zeitgeist

Informed by myths and legends long since twisted into barbarity

Anyone can choose to see clearly

If you want to

 

Be free

Be free enough to look at a field without mentally imposing

Some line running across it like an impenetrable force field

Be free to see things as they are

Not how you’ve been conditioned to think they are

Be free

Be free to see reality

Look at the stars

Let go of control

Let go of everything

Be free

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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Song From The Big House

The scent of woodsmoke clings to me

Like a spirit not ready to let go of this world

Not from fear but out of love

Holding on to memories that reverberate

To the beat of the round drum

And the stamp of bare feet on a dirt floor

In a place that echoes the past into the present

Where dances are sacramental offerings

Shared with ghosts who linger in the dust

Raised by each footfall

Even though we applaud we know this isn’t a performance

But a moment to let spirits intermingle

Bathed in smoke that permeates our souls

Dusted with earth that has witnessed degradation and despair

Seen attempts at genocide collide with patient persistence

Until old songs are given new voice

And old voices are heard with new understanding

To the beat of ancestral hearts witnessing truth

In the flicker of flames that never died out

That burn on into the tomorrow of today

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Conflict

Missile to missile is where we are now

Mano a mano

Is strictly quaint

A caricature of conflict

Which now trades body blows for rows of body bags

Blood running as deep as black ops unhinging

Each Pandora’s box on this green earth

Where Eden has been fracked and strip-mined

Into an unsettling distortion that screams into the black night

Like a twelve year old sex slave before she’s drilled into submission

This green earth that has been pissed on far too much

Scorched into barrenness

Until its skin dries up and is carried away on the wind

It’s not the accumulation of wealth but the hoarding of it

That cudgels our collective whimper like any vicious overseer

Cancerous growths of unmitigated greed eat the body politic

To death

Evil commodified

Quarterly reports don’t include sins of the profit margin

Factory slaves who die in tumbled grief

A middle class outsourced to pay for higher gates and broader lawns

For the fearful few who totter on their towers of transitory wealth

Waiting for a realization of impossibility

Ignorant of the weight of the sewers filled with their misgivings

Flushed with success

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

 

 

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